Heavier
by musiclover99
Summary: You were almost always bigger than them. Taller. Wider. Bulkier. But it still annoys you, saddens you, irritates you, BOTHERS you that you're always heavier. A rather depressing Fishlegs-centric one-shot with small sprinkles of humor. Warning: sad


_**Heavier  
>A How to Train Your Dragon story<br>Written/edited by: Max/musiclover99  
>©-Dreamworks Animation<strong>_

_**OKAY, so this is one of this fics where the author uses a character that can relate to the aforementioned author. Yeah. Like my Percy Jackson fic, Ignorance is Bliss, or my other HTTYD fic, Ignore, and stuff like that. I just . . . I've always felt like this, but this is the first time I thought about writing it out. **_

_**But on a brighter note, in the (hopefully) near or distant future, I shall be publishing my first multi-chapter HTTYD fic! 8D So I hope you guys'll read that later!**_

_**Anyway, hope that you'll think it's good, this was my first attempt at 2**__**nd**__** person POV. I hope I did well cause I'm planning to do some more in the future! Any criticism (NICE criticism), please review it! This is a rather depressing story, with some sprinkles of humor in some things. Mostly sad, though. You have been warned.**_

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><p>You walk towards the arena.<p>

It's another day of Dragon Training, you think. You try not to, but very deep inside the back of your head, you can't help but add, _What's the point, Astrid's got it in the bag already. _

Then you dispel the thought because, really, there _is_ a small percentage of a chance that you could get it, or someone else could—even though that chance is very miniscule, it exists.

You think of this all the time, even before Dragon Training had started for you—what's the chance of you winning, compared to better people, like Astrid or Snotlout, even the twins? Even Hiccup might have a better chance than you do, simply because he's so much smaller, everyone else is smaller—either by height or by . . . width.

You can't help but think about your over-round stomach. Astrid's always been lean and lithe. Hiccup's always been a little scrawny and skinny, and just a bit _small_. The twins are now tall and lanky, gangly, even. Even _Snotlout_ is smaller than you, in height _and_ size. Sure, in width he's closer than the others are, but still.

You can't help but feel a little inferior, simply because you don't have a Viking skill. Snotlout embraces the Viking meaning, defines it almost. The twins . . . their names say it all, Ruffnut and Tuffnut. They're nutty in the head most of the time, but they're still rough and tough—which is good for the Viking way.

Astrid is also the meaning of Viking, but not in size. She's lean, lithe, making her more agile in the field. Snotlout may look like a Viking, with brute strength, stubbornness and all, but Astrid fights like a Viking more than he can. She can fight like a Viking, possibly better than some adults, simply because of her agility.

Even _Hiccup_ may be more Viking than you. Sure, both of you have brains, but Hiccup is also working as a blacksmith apprentice. While you may help putting out fires, he is slowly, but surely getting stronger, carrying those heavy weaponry, sharpening, tightening, whatever. He knows how weaponry works, most likely. He's probably good at it by now. That's more than what you can do.

You have smarts, but in the Viking way, smarts aren't needed much. Calculating jaw strength, or speed of a dragon may be helpful, along with the shot limit, but unless you can fight, you can't be a _true_ Viking.

You have strength, yes, but your _bulk_ . . .

You sigh. You may think about how the others are better, but never this deep. Right now, that's the only thing you can think of.

Ever since you were younger, you always wondered why you were bigger than the others. When everyone was younger, you were almost always the tallest, and showing signs of the widest. And soon, you were the widest, too.

You and everyone else would play something called Tackle**[*]**—where one person would try to tackle someone else. When they do, the person that got tackled had to do the same. It keeps going. It never ends until everyone's tired and doesn't wanna play anymore.

When you and Snotlout and Astrid and the twins and Hiccup (a time where Hiccup, even though he showed signs of being _different_, was still kind of accepted, simply by being the chief's son) would play Tackle, you'd always try to hide. You didn't wanna be it, because . . .

You were bigger than them in bulk, size, shape, whatever you wanna call it. And if you had to tackle someone, they might get crushed. And while you may worry about them, you'll also be insanely embarrassed—you crushed someone because of your _weight_.

Astrid never got tackled. She showed signs of her litheness at early age, signs of her incredible fighting capability. And if she started by being the first tackler, it wasn't long before she tackled _someone_—hard. But because of her leanness, they were always okay, but still out of breathe because when any human being falls on another, no matter how light they are, it still hurts.

Hiccup was basically the same, except for one thing. His smallness helped him out in this game, unless he was the tackler. Then, it might take a while, because he's not that good at tackling, only at the running. He usually makes it, though. Eventually.

The twins were more evenly filled out at younger age, but they were still pretty lanky. But they used that to their advantage, practically never getting tackled (though it helps that nobody wants them to be tackler). And . . . well, everyone tried their best to make sure one of them _wasn't_ tackler, even and _especially_ when one of them _wanted_ to.

Snotlout was the only one close to being in a similar predicament as you were, but he was better off than you were. Even though he was starting to look big too, he was still smaller than _you_ were, and he didn't mind 'stupid' things like how _heavy_ he was. So he got along just fine.

You sigh again. All your life, this has been following you, and you wished it would just _go away_. You had a large mass, and while it shouldn't matter compared to the adults in the village, it does. Because you're not an adult. Because you're still a teenager, like your friends. Because your friends were always smaller than you, width, height, or both.

Because they were average in that department.

Because most people weren't _this_ heavy when they were at _your_ age.

Just because you're _heavier._

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><p><em><strong>[*] Total jab at Tag, lol. I figured, the Vikings would have games for children—but they'd have to be TOUGH games. F*** yeah! XD<strong>_

_**So yeah, basically, every single person (or at least ALMOST every single person) at my school in my grade would be like, 75-85 pounds. Some people had hit 90. Some boys hit over 100, but I don't count them because . . . hell-ooo, I'm a GIRL. And every time the topic of weight comes up, I have to lie and say I'm about 90 or 95 or so. Because, honestly, I don't really look THAT fat (. . . well, I have been called a fat dog before, but that was by these two boys, these two complete F***ING IDIOTS, whose ideas of "average" were like, 80). So I lie about my age like that, when in reality, I'm about 20 pounds over that. **_

_**So, I always feel bigger and heavier and . . . ugh. My mom says it's like, 95% muscle, 5% fat, but still. (Though I have to admit, some peoples' thighs are like, jiggly, mine aren't.)**_

_**Well, now it's just getting uncomfortable, so I'll just end it here. **_

_**This was more of an outlet to express my discomfort and stuff. So I hope you liked it! Eh heh . . . well . . . yeah. This is rather depressing. **_

_**I don't have to tell you this is Fishlegs, right? **_

_**Laterz. **_


End file.
